


He Will Set Us Free

by Star_Going_Supernova



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Dad!Henry (Bendy and the Ink Machine), Edgar being Adorable, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Henry occasionally thinks in memes, I love Edgar, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, expansion of Infinite Worlds, is real!, oh gosh the, there's no 'Alice' or Projectionist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 02:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12831696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Going_Supernova/pseuds/Star_Going_Supernova
Summary: He will set us free.The toons know thatHecertainly isn’t Joey Drew, the Liar. But it’s time a few lost little souls find out for themselves just whoHeis. The Butcher gang is about to realize that maybe— maybe-just-maybe— the whole world isn’t out to get them after all.All it takes is a moment of kindness.





	He Will Set Us Free

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [With Infinite Worlds, Everything Must Exist Somewhere](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12785889) by [Star_Going_Supernova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Going_Supernova/pseuds/Star_Going_Supernova). 



> As established, this is Another World, so this isn’t canon to any of my existing stories, though you will see similarities. Also, for the sake of this, let’s just pretend that ‘Alice’ doesn’t exist and that Norman Polk is at home sipping coffee instead of wandering around Level 14 as a monster.
> 
> The original snippet leads into the rest of the story, and it hasn’t changed if you’d rather skip to the new stuff. Additional note: our favorite monstrous ink demon’s name is **not** in little quotation marks. He’s just Bendy, but he’s still tall, drippy, and after Henry.

**In another world,** Henry turned a corner and sucked in a breath, immediately ducking back around it. There was an Edgar copy just ahead of him. 

He cautiously peeked down the hall with the toon, ready to make a break for it— he’d rather not have to kill anyone else if he could help it. 

What he wasn’t expecting to see was Edgar flailing about, his teeth making rapid clack-clack-clacks that sounded distressed to Henry. His gaze drifting down, he spotted the source of the little guy’s panic. A puddle of ink was doing its best to absorb him, one of his legs already significantly sunk into the void. 

Henry, secure in the knowledge that he was safe, turned to backtrack when a strangled whimper hit his ears. _Just keep walking_ , some cynical part of his brain told him. 

Instead, he leaned around the corner again, just enough to see but not be seen. Edgar had fallen onto his bottom, facing opposite Henry’s side of the hallway— both of his legs now trapped in the reaching ink— and was trying unsuccessfully to scoot away. 

Listening to the muffled whines and pained clacks was simply too much for Henry; he couldn’t stand knowing that the little toon was suffering.

Taking the three steps necessary to stand directly behind Edgar, Henry reached down and scooped him up by his armpits, easily separating him from the dangerous black liquid. When he set him down, Henry prepared himself for the worst; to his surprise, Edgar merely stared up at him with his mismatched eyes. 

Henry stared back, jumping slightly when the toon tipped forward— completely forgoing the use of his feet— to face-plant into Henry’s leg. And then, to the animator’s surprise, he started purring. 

“Uh,” Henry said, looking around as though expecting to find someone to help him. “You’re, uh, welcome?” He carefully reached down and patted Edgar on a part of his head that wasn’t taken up by teeth. 

Like a cat, he pushed into it, nearly falling over. 

“Woah there!” Henry lunged to catch him, standing up with a very pleased looking toon in his arms. Edgar settled in, nuzzling into Henry’s shoulder, clacking gently. “O-kay. I guess… you’re coming with me, then?” 

Edgar’s two right arms curled around Henry’s back, his fingers twisting into the material of his shirt. Yeah, he wasn’t letting go any time soon. 

There were worse things to happen, Henry supposed. He started walking again, with his new friend making low, happy grumbly noises. 

“We’ll have to do something about those stitches,” Henry said, even as he wondered if Edgar could truly understand him.

It seemed he did, as Edgar immediately leaned back a bit to point at his mouth.

“Yeah, those ones. I don’t even know if you can talk, kiddo, but regardless— leaving those there would be just plain cruel.” 

Edgar wiggled frantically, softly head-butting Henry in the shoulder and then rubbing the side of his face along Henry’s cheek.

Henry laughed, his eyes crinkling. Keeping a solid hold on the toon, he gently bounced Edgar in his arms. “You’re just like an affectionate toddler, aren’t ya?”

They went along like that for some time, Henry wandering aimlessly while essentially playing charades with Edgar in order to have a conversation.

Just as he was picking his way over a small rubble heap, Edgar went tense against Henry’s shoulder. His back snapped ramrod straight and his teeth started clacking rapidly. 

After recovering his balance from almost slipping on a pile of wooden chairs, Henry twisted to look behind him. 

Not far away, Bendy stared back. 

His head twitched minutely, going between Henry’s face and Edgar’s, just visible over the man’s shoulder.

Without thinking, Henry hiked Edgar more securely against his body and said, “You’re just jealous.”

Bendy reeled back slightly, releasing a soft screech. If Henry was being honest, it sounded vaguely indignant, like Bendy intended to say, “Who, me? Jealous? Pff, no, of course not.”

 _Good golly_ , Henry thought, _he actually is_ _jealous._

While a bit of kindness and a hug had done wonders for Edgar, Henry unfortunately had to doubt that similar treatment would be enough to convince Bendy to stop trying to kill him, especially as he screeched louder and lunged towards them, reaching out.

“Not today, slowpoke!” Henry cried as he jumped clear of the wreckage, hearing Bendy stumble around between various overturned barrels.

Huh. Apparently having a friend gave him a bit of extra confidence. An hour ago, he wouldn’t have made _any_ quips at Bendy.

He ducked around a corner, leaving the demon in the dust. 

Edgar clack-clacked. 

“Thanks for that, kiddo.” Henry gave Edgar a little head boop. “I guess you’re like a lucky charm, huh?”

His mismatched eyes widened, and he dramatically pointed at himself. 

“Yes, you,” Henry said, tickling his stomach. 

The sides of Edgar’s mouth turned up in an attempt to smile. He whimpered when the stitches pulled taut, digging into his lips. 

“Okay,” Henry said, coming to a stop. “That’s it. We’re getting those out right now.” He looked around for a moment. “Perfect. I know exactly where we are, and the Infirmary’s not far from here.”

A quick trudge through a flooded corridor and a couple’a turns of a valve, and Henry was descending the stairs into the studio’s Infirmary. 

He plopped Edgar down on a table and went to rummage around through various drawers and cabinets, knowing just which places were most likely to have what he was searching for.  
  
“I used to spend my fair share of time here,” he explained. “Joey was always gettin’ me into trouble. Y’know, he accidentally stabbed me with a pen once. It was after hours, too, so the nice lady we had as a nurse wasn’t here, and he had to clean it all up by himself. You shoulda seen him pulling it out of my hand. For a man that went on to murder his employees in ritual sacrifices, he was surprisingly squeamish around blood.”

Henry paused, considering. “Now that I think about it though, he was fine when one of the interns fell down some stairs and split open their head. Blood everywhere, but Joey didn’t seem all that bothered. Huh.”

Very quietly, he said to himself, “Maybe I was just an exception.”

Giving his head a shake, Henry turned back to Edgar, who was patiently watching him, his legs swinging back and forth. 

Showing him the scissors he’d found, Henry gently tipped Edgar’s head back so the light fell better on the stitches. “All right, kiddo,” he said, “I’m gonna need you to hold as still as you can, okay?”

Clack. 

“Good. Here we go.”

Bit by bit, Henry snipped through the stitches as close to the holes as he could, so there’d be the smallest amount left to tug through. Despite the occasional whimper, Edgar didn’t squirm even a little. The only parts of him that moved were his eyes, tracking Henry as he shifted this way and that for the best angles. 

Discarding the shredded remains, Henry asked, “How’s that feel?”

Edgar opened his mouth. Inside, his proper teeth were still intact, along with his tongue, which he used to poke at his freed lips. He touched one of the through-and-through holes and winced, hunching forward with a whine. 

Henry placed his hands on his hips and looked around. There had to be something to patch up those holes— but even then, could toons heal from injuries like that? He took a step towards one of the cabinets he hadn’t opened yet and felt the wet squish of ink underfoot. 

Ink. Maybe— could that work?

There was only one way to find out. It was easy enough to locate a little brush on one of the counters, and an empty bowl to fill with the living ink that littered the studio. 

“I’m gonna try something, kiddo. I don’t know if it’ll work, but, well— it’s worth a shot.”

After dipping the fluffy bristles into the ink, Henry carefully smoothed some over one of the holes. For a long moment, the black stood out sharply against the lighter shade of Edgar’s lips, but then it seemed to melt or something, right before Henry’s eyes, until it had become a part of Edgar. 

One by one, Henry did the same to the inside and outside of Edgar’s mouth, gently filling in each hole until they were all gone. 

“There you go,” he said, setting his brush down.

Edgar felt along his restored lips, never once wincing in pain, and looked up at Henry with shining eyes and a squeaky toy noise.

Laughing, Henry scooped the toon up. “We’ll work on talking some other time. For now, let’s see if we can get outta here.”

Clacking his teeth in a jaunty pattern, Edgar snuggled close to his Creator, smiling and free.

• • • • •

Even before picking up Edgar, Henry hadn’t liked killing any of the misshapen toons that attacked him. He’d much preferred avoiding those confrontations, even if it meant running or deviating from his chosen path. Though his feelings on the matter hadn’t changed, it suddenly became twice as important to steer clear of trouble, since he had Edgar to protect as well.

Which was why Henry was running from Barley, who he’d practically collided with as he’d turned a corner. All he had to do was get far enough ahead that Barley wouldn’t be able to see him, and then he could either hide or find a new path to take. 

In an attempt to slow his pursuer down, Henry slammed a door after passing through it. The force, unfortunately, sent it banging back open. 

A strangled choke from behind him made him glance back.

The line connecting Barley’s head to the pole jutting out from his body was tangled around the doorknob. His body thrashed and tried to back away, but he only succeed in making it worse. The choking sounds continued.

Henry stopped. 

 _Don’t do it,_ that mean ole cynical part of his mind said.

Barley lost his balance and fell, the line yanking his head up.

 _I’m doing it,_ Henry told his cynical side.

He slowly walked back to Barley. In his arms, Edgar made a questioning noise. Henry set him down and knelt beside Barley, who twisted around some more.

“Hang on, hang on,” Henry said as he got to work undoing the mess around the knob. Barley stilled, his sunken eye with its x-shaped pupil zeroing in on the man’s face.

Edgar sat down, leaning against Henry’s side, as his fingers neatly sorted the knot out. After a few minutes, he took hold of Barley’s head to keep it from falling as he finished freeing him. 

“There we go,” he said softly as he reeled in the extra length of fishing line. Barley remained seated even after Henry sat back. 

He stared up at Henry; feeling major déjà vu, Henry stared back. 

Without changing his expression or making any noise whatsoever, Barley raised both arms, asking to be picked up.

Smiling, Henry obliged.

• • • • •

With Edgar on his right hip and Barley on his left— and Barley’s head carefully settled on Henry’s shoulder between the two of them— Henry was reduced to kicking doors open, while being extra careful to avoid Searchers. 

“I say we head upwards,” Henry said, staring at the ceiling. “I’d like to see if we can get through any of the other exits. What’d you guys think?”

Edgar bumped his head against Henry’s and gave him a thumbs up with each of his two right arms. Barley mirrored the gesture, unable to move his own head. 

With a nod, Henry maneuvered through the hallways until he came to a stairwell door. He carefully balanced on one leg, lifting the other to ram his heel against the wood near the knob. The door burst inwards with a crack. 

Almost immediately, a series of loud thuds echoed from just above them, ending in a crash. 

“Hm,” Henry said. He glanced between his passengers, both of whom were looking back at him. “Sounds like I startled someone.”

He cautiously made his way up the stairs, stopping at the first landing. Charley, trapped beneath a dresser that Henry would bet had been precariously leaning in the first place, flailed around on the floor. 

 _Henry no,_ his cynical side begged him.

 _Henry yes,_ he responded.

Both of the toons in his arms allowed him to set them down, watching as he heaved the dresser up until it rested back against the wall— where it was supposed to be— freeing Charley.

Though the rest of him seemed fine, his plunger leg was shattered beyond use. Charley sat up and gazed at it, his stretched-open mouth turning even further down at the corners. Edgar and Barley plopped down on either side of him.

The sight would’ve been enough to bring a smile to Henry’s face, but he was distracted by a nearby puddle of ink. Oh, it wasn’t bubbling or anything— but he remembered using ink to heal Edgar’s mouth. 

Was it possible to use it for more?

He knelt down in front of it, drawing the trio’s attention. Without hesitation, he plunged his hands into the cold liquid. 

 _Now what?_ he wondered. Well, Joey’s tape had mentioned belief, and as an animator, he’d always known the power of imagination; Henry momentarily closed his eyes and pictured what he wanted to do, what he needed to happen. He opened them.

“You will do as I say,” Henry told the ink. There was no response, but when he drew his hands out of the puddle, it didn’t melt through his fingers. Instead, it seemed to solidify while still remaining malleable enough to mold as he wanted. 

It was simple, really, to manipulate the ink into a new leg for Charley. 

Henry held it up. “May I?” he asked its intended recipient.

Charley nodded.

All it took to attach it was for Henry to hold it in place for a moment. When he was able to successfully wiggle his foot, Charley gasped and looked up at Henry. 

Switching his gaze between all three toons, Henry glanced back at the puddle of ink. It didn’t seem to be any smaller than it was before he made the leg. 

“We’ve got time,” Henry decided. He settled down more comfortably next to it, gesturing the trio closer. “Let’s see what we can do for you guys.”

• • • • •

By the time Henry and his little Butcher gang were on the move again, all three of them had any and all missing or improper limbs back where they belonged. Edgar had all four arms again, and Henry had managed to remove not only the more pointless threads that randomly criss-crossed his face, but the teeth on the top of his head as well. Barley’s own head had been reattached to his body— after the horrifying process of pulling the fishing pole out of his neck’s base— and his mouth, along with Charley’s, was restored to its normal proportions and movement. Lastly, Henry had reconstructed a left hand for Charley, who had inexplicably been missing it. 

Though there was little he could do about their eyes— at least, not without the proper equipment— they’d made it clear that they could see just fine. 

Henry once again had Edgar and Barley on his right and left, respectively, with Charley insisting upon walking on his newly made leg. He seemed to be having a fun time of it, too; he bounced and jumped and occasionally broke out into complicated step patterns. 

With the goal of going up still in mind, Henry was happy to find an elevator access point. Charley pressed the call button and skipped inside once it arrived, Henry following behind with his arms full. 

Edgar stiffened in a familiar way. 

Henry turned around to face Bendy, standing in the very doorway they’d only just passed through mere seconds earlier.

They faced each other down, Henry’s hands full of two toons, with another clutching the hem of his shirt.

Without breaking eye contact— as much as one could have eye contact with a demon whose face was obscured by ink— Henry said, “Hit it, Edgar.”

Accompanied by a squeaky toy noise, Edgar reached out and smacked the Level K button.

The gates closed, and they began to ascend.

Stepping closer to the edge so he could see Bendy as they rose, Henry called down to him, “This is what happens to toons that don’t try to kill me; they get hugs and cuddles!”

Bendy screeched back at him, just as they disappeared from sight. 

There was a surprise waiting for them just beyond the lift at their destination.

“Boris!” Henry cried. “I thought I lost ya, buddy!”

Edgar and Barley helpfully squirmed out of Henry’s arms as the cage slid back, allowing Henry to throw his arms around Boris. 

“Oh, I’m so glad to see you!” he said. “C’mon, we’re leaving.”

Henry swept up Edgar, grinning when Barley raised his arms towards Boris. He glanced at Henry. “Well, go on,” he nodded towards the little guy.

That’s how they made their way through Level K, in and out of Heavenly Toys, up up up through the music department— taking several detours to get around flooded staircases— until finally, Henry stepped into the original studio. 

It was still pouring ink everywhere from his first encounter with Bendy by the Machine. 

Without issue, he led them to one of the back exits. 

“Moment of truth,” Henry said. He turned the knob and pushed the door open. 

Beyond, the real world waited. 

• • • • •

Was this Henry’s best idea? Probably not. His cynical side was making sure he knew that.

But he just couldn’t forget about the way Bendy had acted the last few times he’d seen the demon. Maybe he was being foolish, or naively optimistic, but he’d never forgive himself if all it took to make things better really was something as simple as a hug. 

He turned the corner into Heavenly Toys— having trekked all the way back down once he’d secured his newly freed toons in his car— and there he was.

Bendy was trudging along one of the fence railings in the center of the lower portion of the room, facing Henry.

They both froze at the sight of the other. 

 _Now look at what you’ve done_ , that pesky voice said.

Firmly ignoring it, Henry straightened, took a few steps closer to Bendy, and opened his arms. “You know you wanna,” he couldn’t help but say.

After a long pause, the tense line of Bendy’s shoulders drooped. He shuffled over to Henry, his head bowed, and nearly collapsed into his Creator’s arms. 

Through sheer determination, Henry kept his legs beneath him under the sudden additional weight of an eight-foot-tall ink demon. 

“That’s it,” he said quietly. “I’ve got you, bud. It’s gonna be okay.” 

Something that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle answered him. Henry— suspecting that this might take a while— managed to coax Bendy over to the nearest couch, where the massive toon all but curled up on top of him once he’d settled down.

Henry gently tipped Bendy’s face up and went to wipe away the ink that covered his eyes, but Bendy shook his head and made a soft noise that sounded like nothing more or less than resigned defeat. 

“It won’t come off?” 

Bendy nodded.

Leaning closer, as though imparting a great secret, Henry whispered, “Well, it’s a good thing, then, that I seem to be particularly good at convincing it to do what I want.” And without further ado, Henry dragged his palm through the dripping mess. 

Bendy’s pie-cut eyes blinked up at him.

Smiling, Henry continued to clean up the white of Bendy’s face. “There you are. I was wondering where you were hiding under all that goop.” 

Tears welled up in those newly-revealed eyes, shining darkly. 

“You need to cry? That’s just fine, bud, it’s good to let go every once in a while.” 

As though he’d been waiting for permission, Bendy buried his face into Henry’s chest, his entire body shaking with the force of his near-silent sobs. Henry smiled sadly down at him— it might be healthy to release your emotions, but that didn’t mean it was painless— and hugged as much of Bendy as he could get his arms around, rocking him as best he was able, the way his ma had always used to do for him when he was a too-small child with too-big tears. 

In the otherwise vast silence, Henry softly sang the words to his favorite song from their cartoon.

• • • • •

When Henry emerged from the studio a while later, he did so with his hand tucked inside Bendy’s larger one, leading the toon into the world like a good Creator should. Though there was nothing to be done about Bendy’s size, Henry had been able to straighten out the mess his feet had been— honestly, how did Joey screw up so badly that Bendy’s feet not only didn’t match, but faced entirely different directions?— as well as restore the proper proportions of his gloved hands. 

Henry’s car wasn’t the largest, so with Bendy in the passenger seat, and Boris, Charley, and Barley in the back, he looked down at Edgar.

“Guess you’ll have to sit in my lap, kiddo.”

Edgar made a face that said he didn’t really mind. 

They settled in, and Henry started the engine. “Well, everybody, say goodbye to the studio. Bet you’re all glad to be free of that place.” 

Edgar shuffled backwards until he was pressed tightly to Henry’s stomach. Boris, on the driver’s side of the vehicle, leaned forward to rest the edge of his snout against the curve of Henry’s seat. Barley and Charley, angled slightly, locked their eyes on Henry, even as their new world swept by outside the windows. 

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? It wasn’t their new world, not really. 

For all of them, their Creator was their world. How could he not be? 

And Bendy slowly reached out over the center console and wrapped his fingers around Henry’s wrist. 

They remembered the Liar. They hated the Liar, and the Liar had grown to hate them in return.

Henry let go of the steering wheel and slipped his arm through Bendy’s loose grasp until his small, human hand was enclosed within Bendy’s fist. He smiled at him, at all of them, one by one. 

 ** _He will set us free_** , one of the walls in the studio had read. The toons had once wondered who the _He_ in the message was. Now, it seemed obvious.

It could only ever have been someone who looked at them all with love so clearly shining in his eyes. It could only ever have been someone who walked back into the studio to save one of them. It could only ever have been someone who would see a trapped, struggling toon who was, by all accounts, his enemy and ignore the voice in his head saying, _Good, now leave while it can’t get you_ , and instead respond, _No. I’d rather stay and free him._

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally going to ask if anyone wanted an additional chapter where Henry goes back and hugs the evil out of Bendy, but my need for fluff and a complete Happy Ending answered the question for me.
> 
> And yes, not so different from Catalyst, or even A Creator’s Heart, but is that a bad thing? I don’t think so. 
> 
> So, what’d you think? Did I deliver on the Butcher gang fluff? For future references, what was your favorite Act of Fluff? These are important questions, guys, don’t leave me hanging.


End file.
